More Than You Know
by Cszemis
Summary: His only lifeline in the middle of the picket fence nightmare had been Butters, but even that could never last.


Title: More Than You Know

Author: Cszemis

Rating: K

Summary: His only lifeline in the middle of the picket fence nightmare had been Butters, but even that could never last.

* * *

"Yeah so there was the time that we may have convinced Butters that it was a good idea to go on the Maury Povich show with balls on his chin," Stan was laughing, glass in his hand, looking rather radiant in a room filled with other glowing faces.

"But trust us, we only convinced him with the best intentions," Kyle cut in, grinning widely, nodding his head in the direction of the groom.

"Yeah we thought we might get some money out of the kid!" Stan and Kyle were doing their old double act, entertaining all of the guests with their easy smiles and good humour.

Butters had half slid down in his seat not long after they had started their speech, his face going scarlet as two out of the four of his Best Men giving the obligatory speeches. But despite the ever growing list of misdemeanours, the crowd had only grown warmer and more affectionate, each one of them sincerely raising their glasses to the blonde young man. There were no hidden intentions, no false promises, no secret jokes amongst the congregation.

Even the likes of Craig and Token had gotten on their feet and were chanting his name over Stan and Kyle's speech.

"And then we threw a ninja star in his eye and stuck dog fur on him so we could take him to the vet," the best friends had everyone in stitches. The bride clasped Butters hand reassuringly under the table and smiled warmly at her blushing groom, who was looking like he might just faint with embarrassment.

"And who can forget the time we pretended he had died and made him dress up like a girl? To Marjorine!" Stan lifted his glass higher and quite a few of Butters's old classmates began whooping.

"Seriously though," Kyle waved them silent, "this young man, this overly idealistic, overly optimistic, the man who can't say nut sack in front of his grandma without getting his mouth washed out, is one of the kindest, most straight forward, nicest people to ever come out of South Park."

"Hear, hear!" Randy Marsh was already drunk and halfway under the table too but others agreed and raised their glasses in the groom's honour.

"He's a good man," Stan smiled down at poor Butters, his smile honest and warm, "the greatest friend, the nicest guy and now the most loving husband that anyone could ever hope for. And I think it's about time that we refill our glasses and drink a toast to him and his darling new wife."

"To Butters!" Kenny yelled out from beside Bebe, breaking off from feeling her up under the table to actually take part in the event.

"TO BUTTERS!" everyone called out. Clyde started banging his hands off the table and quite quickly everyone else did the same, stamping their feet and clapping on the tables, the cutlery bouncing on the tablecloth.

Butters could only slide down in his seat a little bit more, thoroughly embarrassed by the noise that he had generated by simply being himself. He was nearly at the point of tears, barely able to comprehend that so many people cared about him and he had started shaking.

A few people shouted out, telling him to stand up and take a bow but Butters would not. He didn't think his legs could possibly support him.

So it was a pair of hands to his right, his chief Best Man that finally forced him onto his two feet and helped him to bow to his adoring audience. Eric Cartman kept the nervous young man steady as he took in the applause, the sound of his old nickname being chanted over and over in unison.

When the noise finally settled down Butters was very relieved and gave his new wife a quick kiss before turning to Eric and whispering his thanks under his breath. Cartman just grunted and helped himself to a bread roll, unable to look at the groom after that.

It was in the midst of all that fuss and commotion that a silent tragedy was taking place. Everyone here had that special someone in their life, a lover or a partner, and their lives were momentarily perfect, enjoying the fairytale wedding even if it wasn't their own.

Eric Cartman had no one.

And no one cared, or chanted his name, or even smiled in his direction. He was the fat, racist, manipulating sociopath that people loved to hate and longed to see dead even though they were perfectly polite to his face.

But they never met his eyes; no one looked directly at him, because they'd only be reminded of what they would always hate to be. The only person without a date at a wedding.

It was not long after they had all graduated from college that Kyle had disappeared for three weeks, scared everyone to death, and had finally shown up, disheveled and married, having eloped with a young doctor who had apparently loved The Cure more than he did.

They had only dated four weeks and were now married for 8 years, proud and solid despite all the nay-sayers that said they had married too quickly. His best friend Stan Marsh had been furious and they had a blazing argument that nearly ended their friendship. However, a few weeks later Stan had appeared as Kyle's Best Man at a ceremony that everyone believed Sheila Broflovski had thrown together as she too had been furious with Kyle's reckless behaviour. But one night, a drunken Kyle had grabbed a hold of Cartman's shoulder and breathed in his ear that the only reason that he had a second wedding was because of Stan and only Stan. They were best friends and had always looked forward to being each other's Best Man and it was for that reason that Kyle would never deprive his Stan of that honour.

Kenny had been next and as everyone expected, it was pretty much a shotgun wedding. Bebe, heavily pregnant and incredibly happy, had sworn her life to being Kenny's ho and Kenny forever her pimp as they married in the Town Hall. They had honeymooned in Denver and at the local maternity unit as Bebe gave birth to the first of five children (with plenty more to come).

Stan had enjoyed some of the career life at first and he spent his time enjoying bachelorhood with Cartman and the occasional dinner at the Broflovski home. But then one day he met a woman that loved sky diving and going on safari. So now Stan too was happy and slim, throwing up whenever he had to jump out of a plane or found himself too close to an elephant.

And finally Butters, cheerful and optimistic with his affectionate and gentle wife. She was a new teacher at South Park Elementary and Cartman could already tell that there was going to be kids out of this relationship, not as many as the McCormick's but enough of the pitter patter of tiny feet to keep Leopold Stotch busy.

So why was Eric Cartman all alone?

No one was entirely sure. There should be at least one wife out there for any man, even if you had buy one from China but Cartman was too proud to find his way up in the front of the altar like his friends. So he could only watch miserably as his friends invested in mini-vans for their growing families and took time off to teach their kids how to ride a bike. He could only nod along as they worried about whether or not the sex part was dying out and only scowl as the flame came back and each sex trick was described in graphic detail.

His only lifeline in the middle of the picket fence nightmare had been Butters, a guy who couldn't say I love you without hanging up the phone and was more nervous than a virgin even after sleeping with someone over thirty times.

He would always declare that he could not stand Butters or his never ending enthusiasm but that didn't stop him from performing at his wedding. Cartman may have had a way with words but he would have rather he had shot himself in the head than dish out the niceties to world that couldn't stand his existence. He took his place at the piano and took requests while Butters danced close to his sweetheart, his eyes closed, smelling the perfume in his wife's hair, enjoying the warmth of her petite frame against his own.

Kyle and Stan, after a few drinks had forced everyone into a conga line and Kenny disappeared with Bebe into the nearest toilets, working on child number six. Pip and Dougie were trying to outdo each other by drinking shots one after another, determined to prove their toughness for once and for all.

Everyone was happy, at peace. And Cartman was not.

Hours passed and finally the guests filtered away, stumbling to their cars and agreeing over and over that it was a good wedding. Craig threw up in a rosebush and had to be driven home by the teetotal Tweek. Bebe had thrown up too but everyone was already taking bets on whether it would be another girl or a boy when a very satisfied Kenny drove them home.

Cartman played til the very end, even after people stopped giving requests. And Butters was still slow dancing with his girl, his jigsaw pieces of his life snapping into place at last.

And even then they left too, Butters looking over his shoulder at Eric one last time before dashing off on his honeymoon.

It was when he was alone that Cartman stopped playing. He wandered over the wedding cake, craving sugar when he noticed the little plastic couple still perched on the top tier. The little groom had blonde hair, just like Butters, and without meaning to, and with careful fingers, Cartman lifted him from the precarious height. He cradled the little groom in one hand and stared through teary eyes into the happy plastic face.

As his vision blurred, Cartman was unable to decide if the figure looked more like Kenny or more like Leopold, the two best friends he swore hatred for and treasured more than they knew. He held the groom to his heart and tried to catch his breath, his many layers of fat only hindering his progress.

The room was a mess. There were streamers and burst balloons lying all over the dance floor, bits of cake and spilled soda all over the tablecloths. There were red lipstick marks on the wine glasses and empty bottles of beer standing side by side on the silent bar.

But none of the mess compared to the mess that was Eric Cartman right at that moment.

He pocketed the tiny groom, taking care not to damage its fragile little form.

He then finished all of the half empty bottles of wine and staggered home, to a luxury, empty, three bedroom bungalow that he shared with a few microwave meals. Cartman fell asleep in front of the television, still in his suit and tie, a few strands of brown hair falling in front of his eyes.

When he would wake up he would forget about his loneliness and throw himself back into offending as many people as possible. He'd tell racist jokes at the office and terrorise some sales clerks at a drive through restaurant.

And then he would go home again.

Why was Cartman alone? Because that's the way he wanted it; it was how he liked it. He pushed everyone away, he kept them at arms length and then guilt tripped them for their abandonment of him.

Butters would come home from his honeymoon and nothing would really change. Cartman would still manipulate him into his schemes, still poke fun of Kenny's poverty, doubt Stan's masculinity and despise that wretched Jew.

Because that's the way he wanted it. That was how he liked it.

And that was all that mattered.

* * *

READ AND REVIEW PLEASE xx 


End file.
